Fancy that!
by primadonna1stlady
Summary: another SH/JW fic with lovely mush... contains dress-up themes and angst... rating may change.
1. Chapter 1: Revealed

John laughed as Sherlock stared at the costume with a horrified expression. Mycroft and Greg had organised a fancy dress party, and chosen who or what the guests should come as, and they had even taken the liberty of supplying John and Sherlock with teir costumes, knowing from past experience that Sherlock would wear a ridiculous disguise and refuse to let John dress up.

John and Sherlock were supposed to be 'the only gay in the village' so John was issued with a latex cat-suit and matching choker and Sherlock was issued with desert army slacks, no top and the words 'Hands Off' written in rhinestones across the bottom.

"No... No way!" Sherlock announced, "I am not parading around half naked!"

"Come on it could be fun!" John said, picking up the cat-suit and walking into his room, only to walk out again a few minutes later with an amused expression on his face.

"It does say on my invite that I wear the cat-suit right?" John asked, trying to keep a straight face,

"Yes, Why" Sherlock was interested by Johns expression and the fact that he wasn't wearing his costume.

"Well, I think Mycroft may have mixed up the sizes... Let me try something." John snatched up the cargos and swiftly vanished into his room again.

Five minutes later he emerged wearing the trousers which were tailored to look baggy but fit snugly, and , to Sherlocks surprise, nothing else.

"How do I look?" John asked, smirking at Sherlocks dumbfounded expression. His smirk faded as Sherlocks eyes focused on his scar, and he shut his eyes and braced himself for the disgust that usually came after people saw the ugly mess he had to call his shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2: Laid bare

**Yes, I know complete diversion from the main storyline but I had to get this over and done with... More catsuits coming up.**

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Sherlock watched as John's body tensed and his eyes flickered to his face and saw that john had shut his eyes. He suddenly felt angry. Why should John be ashamed, he was beautiful, perfect, he was Sherlocks light in the dark and Sherlock loved him for it. Suddenly needing to release his anger, Sherlock pushed over a lamp and stormed into his room, slamming his door hard.

John opened his eyes when the door slammed and felt his body relax. He looked around the room and saw the fallen lamp. Picking up the lamp he realised that Sherlock had come out of his room, and that he too was not wearing a shirt.

Looking closer at Sherlocks pale back, John realised two things.

1: Seeing Sherlocks skin was doing odd things to his heart and stomach.

2: Sherlocks back was riddled with scars, new and old.

These scars travelled down his arms and ended just above where the cuffs of his shirt usually lay. The scars on his arms made way to fresh wounds on his wrists.

John gasped and unconsciously stepped forwards, raising his hand to trace the scars. From his closer viewpoint he saw that the fresh wounds on Sherlocks arms spelt out one word. FREAK. John spun around and grabbed his gun shooting the wall in a wave of anger that scared Sherlock. Without even looking he managed to shoot a second face, only this time the face was frowning.

Jumping forwards Sherlock managed to wrestle the gun from John thankful that Mrs Hudson had gone to her sisters this week, and he pulled John into a hug, shocking him out of his anger. Quickly defusing the situation Sherlock picked up the cat suit and glided into his room to change leaving John to calm down.


	3. Chapter 3: Hidden again

Watching Sherlocks back disappear John sat down stunned, he wasn't gay but the knowledge that Sherlock was torturing himself like that made him want to wrap him in his arms and protect him. He dreaded seeing Sally and Anderson tonight at the party but he had to go because Lestrade asked him specifically.

John realised that he cared about Sherlock the same way he would care about a girlfriend, but before he could get into his midlife crisis Sherlock slunk out of his room in the black cat suit. Johns breathing hitched and he felt the blood run to his cheeks as Sherlock silently walked towards him and gracefully sat on the sofa.

Watching him carefully I saw his chest ripple beneath the fabric as he leant forwards to look into my eyes and suddenly the blood was rushing to a completely different area of my body. Eternally grateful that I didn't have to wear such a tight fitting costume, I got up and silently helped Sherlock apply the makeup that was necessary for his costume and he applied the glitter body spray that was necessary for my costume.

We then put on our coats and walked out the door to get a cab, never leaving each other's sides.


End file.
